


A Short Rendezvous

by LazyBaker



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 21:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4682420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyBaker/pseuds/LazyBaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You brought me to your wife's bed?"</p><p>The amusement rolling off Hannibal was physical, tangible in the way it touched Will.</p><p>"A proper affair must have one element of taboo to be at all proper."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Short Rendezvous

The ceiling was an off cream color, the lighting dim enough to ease him, and the bed was soft and luxurious. To Will's left there was an IV drip, a needle snug in his inner arm. He was too tired to move much more than his head.

His tongue poked at the stitches in his cheek.

Vaguely, he felt like he was floating. Maybe it's because the bed was so comfortable. Or the pillows holding him steady seemed to wrap around him. They smelled like a woman who stood straight and had the gaze of something frozen and still. Feminine and cruel.

He was shirtless. No pants, either. He supposed he should feel more worried, but he couldn’t find it in himself. The bed was too enjoyable and for the first time in weeks the walls were quiet and his mind wasn’t racing.

Hannibal was hunched over Will's side, seated on the bed, a needle and thread in his gloved hands, stitching Will up silently. He was wearing clean clothes that were slightly too big on him, and smelled like soap. His hair was damp.

"Your name is Will Graham." Hannibal said slowly. "It is three-fifteen in the morning. And you are in Baltimore, Maryland."

Hannibal's hands were large, blunt fingers delicate as they maneuvered the needle.

"Like old times, huh?" Will's voice was heavy with exhaustion. He didn’t remember when he'd fallen to sleep or when they had gotten here. "How long was I out?"

"An hour and twelve minutes." Hannibal finished. The ointment was cold, but applied quickly. He placed his tools back into a small first-aid kit next to Will’s leg. He neatly folded his gloves with little flourish and tossed them in the bin. A movement he’d done thousands of times.

"You should’ve woke me up."

"You could hardly keep your eyes open, Will. You needed to sleep." Hannibal looked him up and down the length of his body, calculating. Will didn’t think much about covering himself. Being self conscious wasn’t a viable option around Hannibal. "You still do."

"I need to help."

Hannibal's tsk was loud. "Your willingness is more than appreciated, but it's all in order."

Will turned his head away from Hannibal then back.

"Where is she?"

"In the pantry." Will stared at him. Hannibal shrugged, which wasn't much of a shrug but a slight tilt of his body. Will caught it easily. "It felt fitting."

"Cruel."

"I suppose."

There was a sleek vanity in the corner of the room. Make-up lined in neat rows. All in order, likely the most used placed upfront. She had three brushes, all ornate and silver. Family heirlooms.

A black gown hung from the door.

"You brought me to your wife's bed?"

The amusement rolling off Hannibal was physical, tangible in the way it touched Will.

"A proper affair must have one element of taboo to be at all proper."

"I'm not sure I like being in an affair." Will said, airy and more to himself and the cream of the ceiling then to Hannibal.

Hannibal placed a square of white gauze on his side and taped it. He patted Will on the stomach, his hand stayed firmly along the center of his scar. His thumb rubbed little circles. It felt nice, like being pet.

Will bit his lip.

"Do you like it?" Hannibal said.

"I feel like I should be asking you that."

"My answer would be unsurprising. Though I'd tell you if you'd like."

Will dragged his hand and placed it beside Hannibal's, careful not to brush his new bandage.

"How many stitches do I have?"

“Forty-seven."

"Shit."

"Fifteen of those are along your masseter muscle.”

" _Shit_." Will blinked.

He didn’t reach up to touch it. He could feel the light weight of a bandage and the restriction of tape, his tongue once again found the line of stitches.

He'd never been particularly vain. It was the attention he would receive. The scar on his forehead was easy to hide with a hat or his hair. The small knick high up on his cheek was hardly worth a second look.

This would be different. He could already feel the unwanted looks. The scrutiny. It would call attention to him, which meant Hannibal too, now.

Hannibal's hand moved from his stomach to cup the uninjured side of his face.

"Our scars make us who we are." Hannibal’s thumb ran along the underside of Will’s eye and down to the bow of his lips, a gentle pressure. “They are the walls that weather the storm.”

"I'm disfigured."

"You are stunning."

Will sniffed, uncomfortable with the swelling in his chest.

"I would never take my shirt off, at first." Will said quickly. He wanted to skip over this subject, to deal with it when they were safe and away, for when his scars were healed over and his jaw wasn't aching. "I could barely stand looking at it while I changed the bandages. I didn't even want to touch it accidentally."

He hadn't wanted to catch sight of himself in the mirror. The scar had been ugly and red, unbearable in the weight it carried.

"Molly wasn't scared off by it, though. She told me it made me look 'badass'." Will laughed faintly at the memory of Molly smiling at him, trying to build up his non-existent self-esteem. Her cheeks had been bright red.

Hannibal nodded.

"You'll miss her."

"Yeah." Will swallowed. "But I didn't choose her."

It was still an odd sight, too new to be anything but, to see Hannibal melt and reveal genuine softness. Affection abundant and overflowing, both from Hannibal and Will.

"I still don't like being on your wife's bed though."

"I would not insult you with the guest room." Hannibal tugged slightly at Will's hair. He seemed unwilling to stop touching Will. Closing in on him as the seconds ticked by. “And she's not my wife."

"But you slept with her."

"As you did with Molly."

"Were you ever in here? With her?" Will didn't have to watch Hannibal to see any ticks or tells. There was only honesty now. Challenging honesty.

"Not here, no."

In Italy, than. France. All across Europe. His stomach clenched hard at the image, too easy to conjure. Her pale thighs wrapped around Hannibal’s waist. Her hands on him. Painted manicured nails on his chest and back.

He pictured his own hands, his own rough and calloused fingers tugging at Hannibal’s hair, pushing Hannibal down on the bed and into his mouth.

Will tried to swallow the grunt but it was too much.

"I want to fuck you on her bed."

Hannibal blinked and Will took too much joy in his reaction.

"And I would enjoy that.” Hannibal was the image of patience, waiting for Will to come back to this moment. “But you're hardly in any condition for more carnal activities other than lying here and being a good patient."

"When have I ever been a good patient, doctor?"

Hannibal grinned, his teeth sharp. Only hours ago his mouth had been dripping with dragon's blood.

"With a good enough incentive, many things are possible."

“Except that.”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever...?” Will trailed off, eyes focused squarely on Hannibal’s pupils, watching them dilate.

"I find the image of you post-coital to be--" his nostrils flare, breathing and savoring a phantom musk. "--alluring."

"No comparing me to food?"

Hannibal placed the first-aid kit on the ground and sat himself closer to Will so his thigh would touch Will's

"I doubt there is a meat as savory or a fruit as sweet as what you would taste like, Will. I imagine your thighs would be so tender I would have no trouble biting into you and swallowing you whole.” Hannibal paused, his eyes taking on a shining glint that had Will’s chest fluttering. “How was that?"

"I feel like I should be blushing."

Hannibal smiled. "Perhaps another time. One where you are not full of morphine and liable to tear your stitches.”

Will snapped his fingers, the motion felt sluggish.

"That's what this is."

"You were hurt quite a bit."

"And you?" Will took his own inventory of Hannibal, trying to concentrate. Struggled to sit up to widen his view but Hannibal pressed the palm of his hand down on Will's sternum, insisting he lie down. "You were shot."

"But still I live to tend to you."

"The entry wound is on your back--"

"A difficult position but with a mirror not impossible.”

Will huffed. His side ached despite the drugs in his system.

"It's irritating how good you are at this."

"This?"

"Surviving."

"I've had a lot of practice. You do as well."

"Not like you though."

"No." Hannibal touched his thumb to the knuckles of Will's left hand. His wedding ring clung stubbornly to him. Hannibal touched it.  "But you'll learn."

Will's hand twitched. The metal burned him.

"It's hard to take off."

"Shall I?"

“What will you do with it?”

“Toss it into the ocean or on the road. Somewhere where you’ll never find it.”

“No reminders.”

“Not a single one.” Hannibal closed his thumb and forefinger around the ring, softly tugging at it. He arched his eyebrow, waiting.

Will nodded. He swallowed around a thick lump in his throat.

Hannibal wrapped both his hands around Will's. Firm and warm. Hannibal's bangs were loose, still wet from his shower but drying now. They hid his eyes and Will's heart raced to his throat. He needed to see Hannibal's face.

His arm shook, tired and sore. He was sure his joints creaked under the weight of himself, but he managed to push his fingers through Hannibal's hair. Showing him the deep red of his eyes. Warm like embers after a long and disastrous fire, leaving nothing but charred ground behind.

Hannibal slid his ring off quickly, not looking at it, his eyes tracking Will. Looking for something Will knew wasn’t going to be there. Hannibal opened the end table drawer and placed it inside. Closed it with a determined push. A temporary home Will found no urge to disturb.

There was a tan line. He wiggled his fingers, made a fist. It was a strange feeling.

He looked up at Hannibal who was watching Will closely.

"I could ask you if you were jealous, but I know the answer."

"Never one to be inane."

"That's why I'm so interesting. Why you like me so much.”

“A gross understatment.”

"You're laying it on pretty thick."

"Should I stop?" Hannibal asked. Genuine.

Will shook his head.

"I like it."

A high-pitched beeping sound broke the near silent hum of the room. Hannibal pulled out a small timer from his front pocket.

"The meat should be ready to prepare now."

"Dinner?"

"One last meal before we leave. I can't have you traveling on an empty stomach."

"What's on the menu?"

“Roasted pork leg marinated in beer.” Hannibal tucked the timer back into his pocket. He leaned into Will, his fingers once again threading through Will’s hair.

"Will she feel any pain?"

"Physically? No."

Will nodded.

"Then she'll be awake."

"Dear Bedelia will be our honored guest." Hannibal paused. “Are you hungry?”

She would be in the black gown. Hannibal would sit at the head of the table, dressed in one of his suits for the first time in years. Will would sit to his right, freshly showered and clean.

Their first meal together.

“Starving.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/)


End file.
